


Feral Without Teeth

by maximumtrash



Series: The Moon's Serenade [1]
Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But only a bit, Cardan's tail should be its own character, Choking, Dancing, F/M, First Time, Gratuitous use of italics, Lots of tears, Minor Bickering, POV Third Person Limited, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, it gets emotional really quick watch out, no beta we die like men, seriously what have i done, the start of my feel good everything is okay AU, this is trash but i love them a lot, wine is spilled... lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximumtrash/pseuds/maximumtrash
Summary: Her skin is diamonds,Her blood is rubies,Silver are her scars.She haunts these halls,Her very essence scorched in the stone.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first fic for this fandom. I don't usually post anything, but I was going crazy without new content and decided to write my own fic and share it. Whoops.
> 
> Also, I'm an idiot and tend to post first drafts without looking them over much, so I'm slowly editing these. Sorry in advance! Please be kind, comments/kudos are appreciated. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know what I'm doing or where this came from. I'm a mess.

_He twirls me around a grand room._

_There are two thrones behind me._

_Despite it all, however hard I try, I cannot stop myself from smiling at him._

_Under his gaze, I become lost._

_His eyes do not leave mine._

_Ivy sprouts, curling down from the ceiling,_

_I know it is his doing, his way of letting me know_

_That I have grown inside him and attached roots, just as he has done in me._

_I am terrified._

_Of him, of me._

_Of us._

 

_It is the greatest feeling in the world.  
_

 

*

 

Jude lies in her bed wide awake. The dream she just woke up from was not a new one; it is one that has tormented her for weeks, ever since she had somewhat settled into her forced life. Settling took enough time to reach, and now her thoughts just won’t let her have any _peace_ from her memories of home.

 

From _him._

 

Her arrival in the mortal world caught her older sister off-guard. For months she stayed shut up in her closet of a roomroom on a pull-out couch of Vivi’s. Her sleeping space was supposed to be temporary, but Jude attached herself to it and decided to not let it go. Not that it matters, because Vivi can’t afford anything else right now. Not with her and Oak.

 

Her only interests became watching the television and wallowing in self-pity. Then she woke up one day and decided to walk Oak to the bus stop around the corner to see him off to school, and it quickly became a regular occurrence. She graduated from that to adding practicing forms of the sword and doing exercises in her room during the day. After that—

 

That was it, actually. Every day, Jude woke up, walked Oak to the bus, slept more, and occasionally did something to keep herself in shape. Above all, she never cried after the day she was exiled. She seemed to be stuck in-between the states of semi-erratic breathing and completely choked up. Honestly, it is a horror for her throat, but she refuses to let her tears spill over. She is angry. Furious. Humiliated. Hurt. She barely speaks anymore, but was getting along fine – without dying, that is – until one night.

 

She dreamt of him. His long fingers at her waist, his eyes on hers. In her dream she is content. There is no sign of cruel remarks or simmering anger between them, just teasing words and bright eyes.

 

She woke up that morning in a gasp, her chest aching, and since then it has happened the same way every night. She is unsure if she is terrified of falling asleep or yearns to be tucking herself beneath her sheets each night.

 

Last night followed the same patterns as the previous ones. She dreamt he danced her around the throne room, and dream-Jude knew her place was by his side. This morning, consciousness came slowly to her, gradually dragging her from her dream, and all at once Jude felt the agonizing reality that she never wanted to wake up.

 

But she did, and this morning became different than all the others.

 

She finally lets the constant threat prickling behind her eyes take form, and fat tears spill over her cheeks. Once they start, she can’t seem to make them stop. They come steadily and shamefully. She sits amidst her blankets as tears drip from her chin, onto her limply folded hands in her lap. It isn’t until she glances at the salty water gathering in her palms and catches sight of the ruby ring on her left hand that she loses it.

 

The sob she lets out is one of misery.

 

She is stupid, stupid, so, so, _stupid._ She is stupid for falling for his tricks, stupid for believing they might be something together, stupid and weakfor not having the strength to take her ring off her finger.

 

Jude can’t catch her breath, she just cries and cries, even when Vivi barges through her door.

 

“Jude,” she says, “What’s going on?” Her words are cautious. Jude knows it must be shocking to see her cry. She doesn't do this. Ever. Jude has noticed that she has been walking on eggshells around her these past months. 

 

Jude braves a look at her, then buries her face into her hands and continues to sob.

 

Vivi crosses the small space of her room and sits beside her on the thin mattress of her bed. She presses her palm to Jude’s back. There is so much about her that Vivi does not know; can only guess at, and Jude feels the sudden urge to tell her everything, but she knows it won't help her. It is daunting to face.

 

“What happened, Jude?”

 

“Nothing,” she says between trying to choke back sobs. “I—I am an idiot.”

 

“We all are,” Vivi says with what must be her version of a gentle voice, “But that’s not what I’m asking. _What happened?”_

 

And Jude suddenly, genuinely _screams._

 

Vivi scoots back a few inches, then puts her arms around Jude.

 

When Jude has calmed down enough that her sobs leave her and she is left tired and exposed, only then does Vivi pull away.

 

“Tell me what happened, Jude,” she pleads. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”

 

Jude just stares at her hands and snaps, “You _know_ what happened. You can’t help.”

 

“I'm sure you haven't told me everything. You were exiled, sure. Cardan betrayed you, but that isn’t surprising considering what you’ve done to him,” Jude sends her a murderous glare, but Vivi continues, “None of it explains why you are still here, not fighting back, not coming up with a plan.”

 

She pauses, searching Jude’s face. “What do I not know?”

 

Jude sniffles. It is an ugly sound.

 

“I’m a fool for believing him,” Her voice chokes off at the end.

 

“Maybe,” Vivi says, “But he offered you all the power you could ever dream of, so you can’t blame yourself for falling for it.”

Jude doesn’t respond, just looks at her hands, tears still falling. Vivi’s eyes follow hers, and she watches Jude twist the ring she has on her hand.

 

"Ah," Vivi whispers. “You love him.”

 

“I do _not_ love him,” Jude growls back at her, clenching her fists.

 

Vivi says nothing to that.

 

“He married you,” she responds instead, and it is more a revelation than a statement, something like curiosity burning behind her cat-like eyes.

 

“And exiled me in front of the entire Court,” Jude mutters.

 

“Yes, but he married you.”

Jude says nothing this time, eyes still locked on her ring. Vivi puts her hand over hers. “He made you the Queen. You _are_ the Queen of Faerie.” Jude looks at her now. “Tell me again what he said as he exiled you. Who can pardon you?”

 

“Only him,” Her eyes burn with anger.

 

“No, what did he say?”

 

And, after a moment, Jude’s eyes light up in understanding. Her tears stop.

 

“I cannot return until I am pardoned by the crown,” she says, breathless, “I—I _am_ the crown.”

She doesn’t waste another moment and launches herself from her bed, legs bare in just her underwear. She scrambles to unlock a trunk across the tiny room. Inside are all of her things, everything she kept, anyway. She tears through the trunk, grabbing a random tunic and her boots.

 

“Jude— what are you doing?”

 

“I’m leaving,” Jude says, frantic excitement in her eyes, “He left me an opening to get him back, so I’m going to march right into that palace and _kill him.”_

 

Vivi simply nods her head at this. Jude throws he tunic over her head and slips trousers on, then goes for her boots.

 

“I don’t think you should march in there without planning, first.”

Jude is not put off by this. “I can plan when I get there.”

“Jude, what if—”

 

“No, Vivi, I’m tired of what ifs.” She straps Nightfell to her hip, tucks a dagger at her waist and walks out the door, into the hallway, with Vivi right behind her.

 

“Should I tell Oak goodbye for you, then?” This makes Jude stop, halfway to the front door of the apartment. Oak is at school. She missed walking him to the bus this morning.

 

“I won’t be gone forever, he won’t miss me,” She says without turning back. She’s probably right, he is very distracted by the television and his homework, and Jude doesn’t do or say much except for the times that she plays with him.

 

“Hold on,” Vivi says, and she strides towards the large window at the side of the room and plucks a stalk of ragwort that she has growing near it. As she walks back to Jude, she gestures with her head, and they walk together out of the front door. She performs her incantation just outside in the late morning light, and a raw-boned yellow pony appears before them. Before Jude can get on it, though, Vivi speaks.

 

“Wait,” She says, crushes Jude to herself in a hug. Jude throws her arms around her sister and squeezes her eyes shut. Vivi leans in close to her ear and whispers, _“Make him pay.”_

 

When they pull back, they are both smiling similar wicked smiles.

 

Jude turns, mounts the steed, and doesn’t look back.


	2. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I actually got this done much quicker than I thought. Gotta love inspiration. 
> 
> Yeah, I totally thought of that one scene from the 2005 Pride & Prejudice movie when writing the dance in this. You can listen to that song during that part if you want, it can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ouMlUZt9DI)
> 
> Let me know what you think! :)

_It seems I am wasting away._

_I no longer know how to live without;_

_How to lack_

_When she has captivated me._

_Her skin is diamonds,_

_Her blood is rubies,_

_Silver are her scars._

_She haunts these halls,_

_Her very essence scorched in the stone_

_As it is in me._

_Above all, I ache for her._

_Perhaps I am enriched_

_By her honeysuckle scent_

_And the pulse of her_

_As she put her hands on me._

_In all of Faerie, she is the greatest at enchantments._

_I am awestruck,_

_Bewitched._

_Afraid._

_Of her._

_Of losing her._

_Of us._

_It tears me apart._

_I am glad._

 

*

 

Cardan wakes with a start, his black spider silk sheets tangled between his legs. His heart is pounding, and his eyes are wet. It is not the first time he's dreamt this while alone in his chambers and usually heavily intoxicated. The dream takes no solid shape, but instead flits around in his head the idea of color and feeling. It is odd and horribly annoying.

 

When he comes back to himself his first thought is of _more wine,_ only to maybe help take his thoughts off of—

 

Off of her.

 

Something nasty and miserable twists in his chest, but he doesn't get the chance to focus on it because the Roach comes striding into the room. Cardan didn't hear him knock. Perhaps he didn't.

 

"Come to keep me company this delightful morning?"

 

The Roach stops at a large mahogany desk off against a wall of the room and gives Cardan an exasperated look. He gestures to a window behind the bed, and Cardan lazily turns to look. It seems to be near midnight, no sign of the late afternoon sun in sight. Cardan makes a sound of consideration, though it is a mocking one.

 

"It appears I've slept in," he says nonchalantly, "Shame. I'm missing the wine."

"The revel _you_ approved has already begun. Lord Baserian of—”

"I know, I know. I'm coming," he sighs and slides out of bed like it is the most tedious thing he has to do. It's not. That part comes later, when he must sit on his throne and pretend he is content with the merriments going on around him. The Roach eyes him with a look that might be hiding worry deep in it. Whether it is for himself and his position, or Cardan's current state and ridiculous goal of drinking himself numb, Cardan doesn't know or care to think about.

 

"You may leave," Cardan says, kindly but dripping with sarcasm. "The High King will arrive when he wants," he adds halfheartedly.

 

The Roach bows low and leaves the way he came.

 

*

 

Cardan grabs some pair of lavish trousers and boots without any thought, and dresses himself in a high-collared billowy blouse with a comical number of buttons that is tight at his waist and wrists. He doesn't care for this; he knows his clothes will probably look perfectly _swell_ together anyway.

 

It is with his crown in his hand and his reflection staring back at him through a mirror that the tightness in his chest returns. He doesn't like what he sees. The gold circlet in his grasp still doesn't feel quite his. He just looks tired. And he is. Cardan is so, so _tired._ So, he smudges kohl around his eyes and fixes his hair by himself to mask it. It doesn't quite help, and if Cardan can see through the facade, so will the people of the Court. Maybe if he arrives drunk enough, or pretends to be, they won't care.

 

He places the crown on his head. It is a heavy burden.

 

*

 

Cardan does what he has done at every revel since she has been gone, and pretty much every revel before that: He drinks until he can feel no longer.

 

Honestly, he finds it pathetic that he sent away his seneschal and now has trouble functioning without being incredibly drunk, but he can't stand himself or the Court otherwise. The people before him sway and laugh and scheme, dancing hard enough to wear their shoes off. Locke occasionally appears behind him to conspire in his ear, but he doesn't hear any of it. Something about tonight feels different. _Skewed._ The power that comes with the gold atop his head beats wildly in his chest and fingertips. The land whispers words he cannot make out.

 

Cardan made his rounds among the room earlier. His throne has been his companion for the last few hours. Now, he simply watches the festivities and waits for them to end, flexing his hands at his unease. Life has never been easy for him, but ever since he sent her away it has been particularly grueling.

 

It is a funny thing, causing your own pain like this. It makes it impossible to find anything pleasurable in it if it is of your own doing, and Cardan is usually friendly with a bit of masochism. Only in his worst, most intoxicated and too-far-gone moments will he admit to himself that he misses her. Those moments, anyone near him seems to choke on the woe he exudes. The flowers around him wilt. Thunder claps in the sky.

 

He didn't realize until she was gone what exiling her would be like. The look on her face when he did it seemed to crack his ribs open one by one.

 

_Deny it, then! Deny me!_

 

And when she was dragged off, she took his heart with her. He can't seem to close the gaping wound it left. In her absence, it is as if he wanders ceaselessly in the forests at night with no stars to guide him. He tastes ash in his mouth at the thought of her. The crown on his head holds the weight of the sky, and every day it is harder to bear as he walks the same halls that her presence has woven itself into. Every stone, every branch, every leaf that grows in Elfhame is haunted by her.

 

He can't bear to lounge on his throne day after day without her.

 

But he had to do it. He had to. And now she's been gone for months and he sits in his hole of extravagant misery.

 

Cardan lets out a barely held back and very dramatic sigh, then rests head chin on his hand, arm propped up on the side of the throne. The feeling from earlier is back. Restlessness thrums through his veins. He scans the crowd for Locke and finds him with—

 

Cardan's heart drops into his stomach for a moment.

 

Taryn. He is with his wife. Cardan scowls at the sight and downs a goblet of wine. He continues roving his eyes over the Court and spots the Roach across the hall near one of the doors that leads further into the palace. He wonders for a moment what he's doing so plainly exposed, because he usually is somewhat concealed, but then he sees who he is talking to.

 

_Jude._ Jude is here in the palace. Jude is here talking to the Roach. Jude is glaring at him with murder in her eyes.

Cardan's stomach does flips. His heart soars. If she is here to kill him, he thinks he will gladly fall at her hand.

 

The next moment, she stalks toward him from the door with such ferocity that the crowd parts for her without really looking.

 

Cardan stands, his heart beating out of his chest. He attempts to compose himself, and then she is right there at the bottom of the dais.

 

All the Court notices what has happened, now, and who exactly stands before him. The music stops.

 

"Jude," he says, somewhat breathlessly.

 

"Cardan," she spits back at him. She does not bow. The Court watches with excitement. What she has just done, the way she addressed him, is scandalous. They don't realize Cardan doesn't give a damn.

 

He descends the dais in two strides, like he is floating, and stands before her. She looks up at him with a scowl and he doesn't care because she is _here._

He snaps back to reality.

 

"Dance with me," he says, raising a hand in offering to her. Music starts up again, the same song as before. It is stringy song, one that suggests a choreographed, communal dance. Cardan finds he doesn't mind. He likes this one.

She glances around at the people watching and takes his hand with another glare. He leads her to the middle of the room where others have gathered again. Two lines have formed, facing each other at a bit of a distance. He releases her and she settles into her place in front of him, tense. When the music cues them, each line begins moving, synchronized.

 

The dance is an alluring one. One of push and pull, give and take. It is a slow dance narrating the story of two lovers. The partners meet in the middle, twist and duck under one another, and take the other's original place, before repeating the process.

 

Cardan moves toward Jude with an intensity that frightens her. They lift their arms in unison, put them parallel in the air, not letting them touch, and slowly circle around each other.

 

"Nice dress," Cardan speaks, low enough for only her to hear as the other partners circle next to them, exchanging tantalizing, practiced movements of hands and arms.

He realizes he said the same thing to her months ago, the same night she was stolen into the sea.

 

"I stole it from Taryn," she says, boredom in her tone. They part from each other, feet going through the leisurely steps of the dance. When she spins to face him and approach once more, he gives her his most charming smile. Whether this is a defense mechanism right now or just that he's genuinely out of his mind with elation now that she's here, he does not know. 

 

They meet again in the middle.

 

"I can tell," is all he says. Her gown is a periwinkle shade, with sheer, swelling sleeves cinched at her wrists, flowing skirts, and a soft corset bodice. The bottom of the dress is embroidered with white silk thread so fine it looks as if it has moving clouds along it as it swishes along the floor.

 

They part again and repeat the process.

 

"How long have you been back?" He asks, not quite feeling that he is in his body, here, right now.

 

"Since the early noon. I had some things I needed to take care of."

Suddenly, his earlier agitation, the itch beneath his skin, makes sense. He could feel her in his domain. The thought is pleasing to him.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure it out," he smirks at her as they stride away from each other, but he knows what he really meant to say.

 

_You came back to me._

"Yes. You were very clever with your words when you exiled me," she smiles as they meet again, but it is more like she is baring her teeth.

 

"You're angry with me," he states. "I don't blame you."

 

"How intuitive." Her voice drips with malice. "You _tricked_ me—"

 

But she is cut off by the steps in the dance, moving her away and back again, then she continues, "—And exiled me from my _home_ with nothing but a ring to remember my stupidity."

 

He says nothing, sees she has more to say. And when they spin around each other, "I am more angry at myself for believing you." She looks as if it pained her to admit that. It probably did.

He does not address that statement. Instead, just as they part,

 

"You obviously want an apology."

 

She huffs on her way to the formed line of dancers. He is suddenly struck by just how much he missed her presence, and her voice, and her in general. Heat crawls over him, and he suddenly feels the effects of the wine he has consumed.

 

Ivy curls down from branches above them. Flowers begin to bloom throughout the room.

When they twirl around each other once more, she says nothing back to him. It is clear that his words struck true. Without thinking it over, the next words that spill from his lips startle him as much as they seem to do the same to her.

 

"I could always make it up to you while on my knees."

 

And with that, they are torn away by the call of the dance. When he faces her, before they start moving to the middle again, he sees a blush has crept across her cheeks. The air has shifted between them. She looks a bit scandalized. It is a good look on her.

 

In a slight panic over his own words, he dips as they near each other, slips an arm around her waist, and lifts her into the air.

 

Jude makes a choking sound and grips his arm that’s locked around her, her other hand finding his between them, steadying his hold on her. Cardan spins her slowly, their faces close together, eyes on each other.

 

The song ends and bleeds into another. The Court pretends to pay them little attention, immediately transitioning into a new dance, this one without any searing choreography. Partners spin and twist around them, but Cardan still holds Jude in the air. Neither one of them says a word.

Finally, he places her lightly on her feet. Jude looks flustered. Cardan thinks he needs another drink. A servant walks by at that exact moment with a tray full of crystal glasses of wine, and Cardan snatches one, but doesn't drink. He hand is still at her waist.

It is probably not a good idea for them to keep dancing. They do anyway.

 

Wine still in hand, Cardan guides her to the music, slower than the other couples around them.

 

"I came here to kill you," Jude says, breaking the thick tension.

 

"Do you think you could?" He leans forward just barely, hoping to catch something in her eyes.

 

"I don't know," she admits. He knows it is the truth. It wants to sting him, just a bit, but he doesn't let it.

 

"Well, that's comforting, I suppose," and he takes a sip of his wine.

 

They continue to stare at each other. He didn't know what he expected to feel like if he ever saw her again. He tried not to think about it. He did not expect her to act this way, though. He sees that she is trying to look angry at him, but she doesn't look that way at all. She looks just like he feels. 

 

His want for her is overwhelming. 

They are weak for each other, and he knows she has irrevocably fallen into him once more, as he has with her.

 

The Court pretends they aren’t staring, but they do a horrible job of it. Jude seems unsettled by the eyes on them. Cardan doesn't care. He feels dazed as he tilts his face towards hers.

 

_I hope they're all watching._

 

Jude swallows and looks anywhere but his eyes. Her chest heaves, and he notices her gaze flit from his neck, over his face, and settle on his lips.

 

And so their game begins. 

 

Jude looks as if she's going to run at any moment.

 

“Jude,” Cardan says, and she finally looks him in the eyes. “I really do like the dress.”

 

She snorts, and Cardan's heart soars again. He can't help it, he leans even closer to her and touches his forehead to hers. All the air between them seems to disappear. They spin and sway like that, and Cardan fights the urge to pull her up into him. It is a battle barely won. 

But he has other games in mind. 

 

Cardan is good at seduction, he knows this, but Jude is different than everyone else, and she makes his thoughts jumbled and his heart skip beats. He's had quite a lot of trouble dealing with that fact, obviously. But in this moment it doesn't matter, and Cardan knows what he's going to do.

Quickly, he pulls away to sip at his wine then his forehead is back to hers. She is stiff as he begins nosing his way down her cheek, tickling her skin. It fuels every bit of his ego that she lets him do it. She lets him graze her jaw and press his closed lips to her neck. He is bent over her, pressing her to him with the hand he has at the small of her back, and she is flushing. They are the only two in the room, everything else has fallen away. Jude’s breath comes in short bursts through her nose, and Cardan opens his mouth against her throat, and he lets spill down her skin with a chuckle.

 

Wine trickles down her neck, staining the valley between her breasts and the front of her gown.

 

Jude gasps, tries to back away, but he holds her tightly to him. Only when he pulls back can she glance at the damage done to the dress.

It is obviously ruined.

 

Jude looks up at him, astonished at what he's done. Cardan can see her pulse kicking in her throat. He smirks down at her and takes another sip of wine, then considers the glass in his hand. After a moment he tips what’s left of the contents of the glass down her front and says, “Oops.”

 

And Jude watches him do it. Lets him.

 

Yes, he has her now.

 

“You’re the _worst,”_ Jude growls at him. He cannot tell if she is genuinely angry with him or is as overwhelmed with him as he is her.

 

Cardan hopes it's the latter.

 

He tosses the glass to the side, near a table full of fruits, and it shatters.

 

Cardan is testing his luck with her, now. His body seems to act of its own accord, mind not quite catching up to his actions when he does them. He holds onto her desperately, because he is afraid she is going to leave.

 

He just wants her to stay, so, so badly. He will take her wrath, her lust, _anything,_ so long as she stays.

 

And Jude certainly looks as if she could tear out of the room and leave him standing there. He knows she could cause a scene and humiliate him in front of the entire Court.

 

He wishes that she would give into this, to them, for once and not think of the consequences.

 

He can see something writhing behind her eyes.  

Jude places her hand on Cardan's chest, and he has to wrench his eyes from hers to look at her splayed fingers on his blouse. He goes entirely still.

How he hadn't noticed it until now, he doesn't know. For reasons he refuses to think about in this moment, Cardan's throat tightens, and he has to swallow repeatedly to make the feeling go away.

 

“You’re still wearing it,” he says, voice scratchy. She looks at her hand now, too, and sees her ruby ring glittering in the low lighting. Jude looks up at him, and their eyes meet.

Something vicious and _raw_ passes between them, the force of it setting fire to his belly.

 

It all happens quickly after that. He releases his hold on her back and grabs her by the wrist. He has no thought of formalities or duties as he tugs her behind him through the room, the festivities going on around them. Jude allows him to pull her as a haze settles over them both. When they reach the doors that lead to the innermost part of the palace, the guards stationed there part for them.

 

They flee the revel with every eye in the room on them, whispers going up like flames in their wake.

 


	3. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... So this is technically OOC because they actually express their feelings. Wish they'd do that in canon lmao.
> 
> This may not be what you're expecting, but I hope you enjoy!

She allows him to drag her by the wrist all the way to his private chambers, trying not to indulge in the familiarity of her surroundings. If she lets herself think, and remembers that this was taken from her, all of this will crumble. For once, her thoughts stay to the back of her mind.

 

Instead, her only focus is him.

 

Cardan and his high collared blouse.

 

Cardan and the smudged kohl around his midnight eyes.

 

Cardan and his wine-stained lips.

 

_Cardan, Cardan, Cardan._

 

Her body thrums his name with every beat of her heart.

 

As he dismisses the guards at the doors to his apartments, she is brought back to herself. He stops suddenly when he leads her inside. They face each other, chests heaving. He is searching her face for something. Again, Jude does not let herself try to figure it out. She simply stares at him, taking in what is before her. When their eyes meet, heat overwhelms her.

 

"Jude," he says at the same time she fists both of her hands in his shirt and crushes him to her.

 

She is acting on instinct now, and instinct says _closer, closer, closer_.

 

Her face is buried in his chest and his arms wrap around her as she breathes him in. Her hands seem to move on their own, up his chest and around the nape of his neck, into his hair. She lifts her head to gaze at him and finds his eyes closed, mouth parted.

 

She has never allowed herself this; to drink him in. They have shared kisses, even a tryst, but all of it had been guarded somehow. All of it a part of a game.

 

Jude is tired of games, and she is more parched than imaginable, dying without this.

 

Without him.

 

All of a sudden, it is too much, and she _yanks_ his head to hers. When their lips meet, she knows nothing else but the taste of him, and the noise he releases. It makes her throat drier; makes her thirst even worse, and she bites down on his bottom lip just to hear him make another sound. He pulls back just a fraction, his hands clamped around her waist, and she whines.

 

Jude never imagined herself whining.

 

Especially after a single kiss.

 

They stand there, foreheads almost together, open-mouthed and breathing each other's air. His hands come up to cradle her jaw, long fingers in her hair. Slowly, like moving through molasses, he tilts his head as to fit his lips better against hers but doesn’t move forward. Jude tries to close the distance between them, but he holds her in place with his hands. Finally, he moves his mouth to hers only to brush their lips together, the barest contact, and pulls back again. Jude's eyes open in frustration, and she finds he is looking at her, one corner of his mouth barely tilted up. She huffs and slams her hands against his chest.

 

The look on Cardan's face as he stumbles is one of shock mixed with amusement and arousal. He stands still once he regains his footing, and Jude—

 

Jude does what any woman in her situation would do, of course. She reaches beneath her skirts to grasp the dagger strapped to her thigh and holds it in front of her. Cardan's brows furrow, and she notices his hair is mussed in the back, curling around his sharp ears, a strand falling in his face.

 

She wants—

 

She _wants_.

 

Jude stalks towards him. Cardan is like a statue as she places the tip of the dagger beneath his chin, and allows her to back him up against his lavish bed. His breath hitches and Jude feels crazed. Unhinged. The primal force curling in her almost feels like anger. She is restless, and she _needs_ him. Cardan opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it.

 

Out of breath and with little grace, she fists her free hand in the fabric at his throat, says, "Off, " and drags the dagger down his blouse, gripping and pulling it as she goes.

 

The shredded fabric slides down his skin, onto the floor, and when she looks at him, there is only a sliver of fear in his hungry eyes. He looks as if he could devour her.

 

She surely wants to devour him.

 

"Dramatic," he breathes, and crushes his mouth to hers. The kiss is like a thunderstorm, all rage on the surface and violent emotions underneath. Jude drops the dagger, and Cardan's hands go to the laces of her gown, but she quickly decides he's taking too long, so she shoves him onto the bed and finishes unlacing the extravagant fabric. He leans back on his elbows, the muscles in his stomach taut, and watches her. When the dress pools at her feet, she steps out of her leather slippers and removes her underwear with no hesitation. This is when she stops.

 

She stands naked before him, but she doesn't find herself embarrassed. The part of her that is needy has taken over, and she revels in his gaze raking over her body. There are no thoughts of inadequacy or mortality in her head now, only ones of removing his pants. Cardan is on the same page, apparently. His hands reach for the ties below his navel as Jude shucks his boots off. As soon as the fabric on him is loose, and he begins to lift his hips, she yanks them off of him.

 

Jude has seen Cardan before. Even touched him. But there is a wild intent behind their lack of clothing, this time, and Cardan is painfully pretty, all tense muscle, long limbs, and silvery skin. He is the moon laid before her, almost too bright and beautiful to look at. Her body throbs at the sight of him.

 

She can't get on top of him fast enough, but before she can throw her leg over his waist, Cardan puts a hand to her chest.

 

"Wait."

 

Jude is incredibly frustrated now. He keeps delaying this.

 

"Why?" she grits out, but it does not sound as harsh as she wanted, just urgent and craving.

 

His hands are maneuvering them both, rolling her onto her back and taking her place as the one above. He kisses her, hot and searing, and all complaints leave Jude for a moment.

 

"I want to taste you," he whispers against her jaw, dark and searing. He trails his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. Jude knows he is leaving marks. Something in her _sings_ at the thought, and she wants to do the same to him. He passes her heavy breasts, down her shuddering stomach, to her navel. It is only when he lies flat on his front and puts one of her thighs over his shoulder that Jude realizes what his words mean.

 

"Cardan, wait—"

 

She doesn't look, but she can tell he pulls back immediately, face hovering between her legs, breath tickling her.

 

"I don't have to, if you don't want, but I hear it is very enjoyable."

 

Jude can't look at him like this. She doesn't think she has the strength. She doesn't care that he's so much more experienced than her, but this is daunting, the idea of him doing _that_.

 

But there is something that burns in her gut at the thought of his mouth on her, so she follows her theme of the night, and doesn't let herself overthink as she murmurs, "Okay."

 

He lingers for a moment, and then she feels his mouth on the inside of the thigh she has over his shoulder. His hand comes to her other one, and he pushes her legs wider so that she is bare before him. His lips trail up to the point at which her leg meets the rest of her body, and she lets out an uncharacteristic squeak before his tongue licks a long, slow stripe up her center and she—

 

" _Oh_ —"

 

This must be encouraging to him, because he puts his mouth right to her core in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, and already this is too much for Jude. She gives in, cards a hand through his hair, and leans up to look at him.

 

He is watching her with a predatory glint in his eyes, searching for every twitch of her brow, every hitch of her breath in her chest. His tail swishes in the air behind him like a cat.

 

The image of him like this will be seared in Jude's mind eternally. Something in her abdomen twists at the sight of him, and she can't catch her breath between the way he is making her feel and how he looks doing it. He does something particularly _incredible_ with his tongue, slides two fingers into her at the same time, and Jude falls back into the mattress, her back arching and hand fisting in his hair as she moans louder than she expects of herself. And Cardan—

 

Cardan moans right back, voice vibrating through her. Jude gasps as he pumps his fingers into her, swirling his tongue around her, and then he's curling his fingers and pressing _something_ and—

 

"Do that again," she groans, though she doesn't know if she means it as a request or a demand. Cardan, it turns out, doesn't care which, and is _very_ eager to please.

 

It doesn't take long for the feeling in her belly to wind tighter and tighter as he works his fingers – there are three, now – in her and his mouth on her, one hand holding her thigh open. Jude is trying to ignore the embarrassing sounds she's making and lets herself enjoy the feeling of Cardan—

 

Cardan, who has suddenly stopped his motions and is removing his hands and mouth from her. Jude lets out a small cry at the loss of it, and turns very angry, very fast.

 

"Cardan," she spits, and he is chuckling, crawling up her body, tail caressing her leg. His face is level with hers and the frustration takes over the loss of the euphoria she was about to reach. Before he can react, she grabs his shoulders, hooks a leg around him, and flips him onto the mattress below her. He falls against the pillows and she is suddenly above him, legs parted around his hips, the evidence of his arousal sitting heavy against his stomach. He has the gall to look a bit surprised, like he didn’t just leave her on the edge like that on purpose. His hands hang in the air for a moment before settling on her hips.

 

Her body is on fire, and there is an itch inside of her that won't go away, and she can't breathe until it leaves. She grinds her hips to his, her wetness slips over his cock and he lets out the sweetest, most perfect sigh.

 

It is the most intoxicating thing she's ever heard. She has no idea what she's doing, but she rolls her hips back and the head of him catches on her entrance and his hands tighten to the point of bruising her. His mouth is pursed, sweat is beginning to bead at his brow, and his gaze is molten under his lowered lashes. Then rolls her hips forward again to see what other pretty faces he can make, leaving that moment of _almost there_ hanging between them, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

 

 _"Jude._ _"_ It is all heavy and pleading and—

 

Scratch her previous statement. Her name on his lips when they're like this takes the crown. Jude admires the sight before her, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck. She knows how she must look, loose hair, love-bitten neck, hips sliding over his, but the sheer, untamed _desire_ in his eyes shocks her. She has the power here. She has made him like this. The thought of taking him apart, unraveling the High King beneath her is overwhelming for her, so she puts a hand to his throat and says,

 

"Shut up, Cardan." And with her hand in place, she lifts her hips, reaches down to position them together, and sinks onto him.

 

Jude never thought it would feel this way; delectably full, stretched perfectly, and warm. Her thoughts scream _yes_ , and she keeps her eyes closed until he is fully in her, then chances a look at the boy beneath her. Cardan's eyes are locked on the place where they meet, and his mouth hangs open, wet lips parted. She doesn't see it coming when he nudges his hips into hers just slightly and—

 

Yes, she _loves_ this.

 

She tightens her hand around the sides of his throat and his eyes snap to hers.

 

"No," she says, heavy. "Don't move."

 

"As you wish." It comes out a bit rasped. His chest is heaving.

 

His eyes never leave hers as she lifts her hips, enjoying the drag of him inside her, and settles again on him. She does this two, three times to get a feel for it, then the next time she lifts up, she _slams_ back down. Cardan bares his throat and groans.

 

And that is all it takes for her to snap. She releases her grip on his throat, seizes both his hands at her waist in hers, and presses them into the mattress by his head, before setting a pace grinding herself on his cock. There is no particular rhythm to it, she just does whatever feels good to her. It all feels _great_.

 

Cardan moans beneath her and she closes her eyes. He says her name and she fucks herself onto him even harder. Her thighs are burning, she is sticky with sweat, and her own wetness mixed with Cardan's spit coats her entire center and inner thighs, but she has never felt better or more _alive_.

 

This is primal, what they're doing. Jude feels the familiar rage and hurt over what he has done to her surge to the surface again, and she is boiling with it. She opens her eyes, stares down at him, and startles at what she sees. Beneath the immense lust in his eyes, Cardan is looking at her with what she thinks resembles tenderness. This softens her for a moment, but she replaces it with more anger and breaks their stare.

 

She rolls her hips in what she hopes is a torturous way and releases her grip on his hands. She sits upright on him and lets out a keening noise, one that she will certainly be embarrassed of later, but the new angle sends her _soaring_ and her belly is tight with heat as she bounces on him. Cardan pants beneath her, hands limp by his head, and he lets her take and take and _take_.

 

_"Jude."_

 

Jude puts her hands on his chest and _digs_ her nails into his skin, scratching down over his stomach and leaving angry red lines in her wake. Cardan lets out a feral sound, his face screwed up, tail curled tight in the sheets, and she loses herself in the feeling until—

 

"Tell me you hate me, Jude."

 

Her pace falters and her eyes find his and her hands smooth over his chest and she—

 

_She can't._

 

And suddenly it all breaks. Jude comes back to reality. She is here, with Cardan, in his bed, in Elfhame, and he is the boy who has hurt her countless times and she hurt him in return and there is so much bad between them and he exiled her and she is _livid_ with him and here she is, hurting him back again.

 

She doesn't realize he is saying her name in a soft voice, eyes bright with alarm. She notices his face is wet and it registers that it is because of her.

 

She is crying.

 

"Jude, darling," he murmurs.

 

This brings a fresh wave of pain.

 

"Don't call me that." she says through clenched teeth. He does not look hurt nor does he flinch at her words. She doesn't know if that is comforting.

 

"What happened?" He says, the back of his fingers graze along her cheekbone.

 

 _"What happened?"_ She echoes. “Everything. Everything happened." She pushes it out, gritty and raw, tears flowing. She feels pathetic. She feels vulnerable. "You sent me away," she pushes a finger into his sternum. "You humiliated me, you played me, you— it's like you lied!" She covers her face with her hands, because it is all too much. She is _tired_ , so very tired. She tells him so. And during all of this, Cardan listens, his hands on her skin, like he is comforting her. She wants to pretend she despises that it's working.

 

She doesn’t, though. She wants him to hold her. She wants to lose herself in him, but she doesn't know if it's possible for her or for him.

 

As soon as she leans into his touches, he takes her body in a gentle, but firm grip, and lifts her off of him. She makes a small noise at the squelching sound their bodies make when they part, but any thoughts of it are lost as Cardan pulls her down beside him on the mattress. They face each other on their sides, now. Jude is still crying but is too ashamed to make eye contact with Cardan until he has his hands on her face and is wiping her tears away.

 

She doesn't want to believe it, but his eyes are shimmering. It is a while before either of them speaks. Then, finally,

 

"You were dying," he says. "I watched you wither before my eyes each day, and then Orlagh snatched you away from me..." He trails off. Jude is ice cold and too warm at the same time. His hands cradle her face like earlier, thumbs tracing her lips, now. Her heart beats loud enough that she is sure he can hear it. "I will not pretend that I was not angry with you, Jude, but I did what I did to protect you."

 

More tears slip down her face and he is there to catch them. "You took my home away from me. You tricked me into marrying you. I—”

 

But the rest is choked off.

 

"It wasn't a trick," he says, softly. "I wanted—I _still_ want—”

 

His eyes, full of concern and something else flit between each of hers, and he leans in to press a kiss to her lips.

 

Jude allows this. Maybe she is weak for it, but she does not care right now. She is spiraling and cannot stop herself.

 

The kiss is tender unlike anything they have shared before. There is no urgency or already mounting heat in it. This is a kiss of comfort and apologies; of sweetness and care. He continues placing sugary kisses across her face in languid movements. Jude's breath hitches with each and every one. She feels tingly all over, muscles slowly losing their tension.

 

Cardan pulls back, just barely, and says, "When Orlagh took you... I had never been more terrified." He takes a deep breath. "I thought I had lost you. I will not suffer that again. I won't survive it."

 

And Jude _melts_ into him. She pulls him to her with a needy sound and he complies. The kisses they share are everything Jude is trying to say to him. When one of them pulls back, the other follows, lips never parting for long. They are positively starved for this. Here, now, there is no wickedness to their actions, no harsh tones or crooked smiles.

 

When Cardan's tail brushes against her waist, she reaches to run a finger over the length of it, feather-light and curious. Cardan's mouth stops its motions, gaping a bit as he sucks in air. He is sensitive there, she notes. He proceeds to slide his hand down the small of her back, over her curves, to move her thigh around his waist as he slides his leg between hers. When Jude feels friction against her center, her body is suddenly alight, and she remembers just how much she is aching for him.

 

"Please," she breathes out, and opens her eyes to find his staring back at her with that same something from before. He moves her onto her back and settles himself above her and between her thighs. Jude is pulling at him without any solid reason, she just knows he has to have him closer. He lightly pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and she pulls his mouth to hers, trying to tell him that she wants—

 

No, she _needs_ —

 

And suddenly the fire is back with a tilt of his head and a roll of his hips. She is scorched from the inside out. His hips against hers makes it evident that she is still very much ready and wanting, as is he. Cardan wastes no time giving them both some breathing room as he reaches down to align them again. He slips a hand around her waist to cradle her back and pushes into her.

 

She decides right then that the feel of him inside her is divine. Her eyes flutter shut, and she grabs him wherever she can, pulling because there is that itching need and he isn't close enough.

 

When he begins to move it is like all his previous actions: slow and deliberate, with feeling. Cardan stares at her as he gently takes her apart. What they are doing together is unlike anything Jude could have ever imagined they were capable of.

 

But he still _isn't close enough_.

 

Jude whines and locks her ankles around his waist, digging into him. She doesn't know how to express what she wants, and it is annoying and distracting. One second she is lost in the feel of him dragging in and out of her, the other she is out of her mind with longing. She is overwhelmed again, emotions roiling inside her, and tears begin to leak past her eyes once more. Maybe they never stopped. All she can do is lean her mouth up to his and say, again, _"Please."_

 

Cardan falters for a moment, staring, then he presses his face into her neck and takes one of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. He places an open-mouthed kiss to her neck and she shudders as his next thrust is a bit harder, reaches deeper, soothes her itch.

 

That—

 

 _Yes_.

 

Jude moans, free hand grasping his arms and back, sliding over scars. He picks up his pace, never quite leaving slow, but adding vigor to it. It is the sweetest torture. She cries out as he pushes against that something in her from earlier.

 

She is surrounded by everything he is. His scent, his touch, his honesty. They are unmasked before each other, having laid themselves open to see and accept.

 

His tail twists around her thigh as he bites and licks up her neck, and it is too much and not enough. She is still deeply stung by what he has done to her and she lets out a sob of pleasure and hurt, and rocks her hips up against his, squeezing his hand tight. He groans into her neck and she lets out another cry.

 

This is perfect. This, here and now, is a cloudless dream. In this moment, he is everything she has ever wanted, and she never wants to wake up from him.

 

She loves this.

 

She _loves_ him.

 

And then—

 

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her skin. "Forgive me, Jude. I had to." His voice is watery, and it is like he is trying to apologize with his hips. Jude's mind is foggy with lust and love and the heat in her abdomen is tight enough to snap, and when he pulls his head back to hover above hers, she meets his eyes and moans,

 

"Cardan."

 

And a tear slips from his eye, sweat drips down his temple, and he pushes and pulls harder and harder and harder and the tension that has been building in Jude shatters and her world freezes. He back arches and Cardan lets out a noise that she will surely remember forever. His hips stutter to a pause as his tail tightens almost painfully around her thigh as he follows her over the edge.

 

When Jude comes back to herself, it is to Cardan placing barely-there kisses to her face. They have both stopped crying. Jude feels satiated and calm in a way she has never experienced. She feels safe in Cardan’s arms and for now, she lets herself lie with him in this sense of bliss they have achieved.

 

Then Cardan goes and rolls off of her, and the spell breaks. All at once, their actions and words hit her and Jude has no clue what do to or what happens now. They spend minutes in silence as their breaths slow. The time they’ve shared was a temporary release from the mess of their lives. Just now, Jude was not the exiled seneschal, or the daughter of Madoc, or the girl who spent months poisoning herself because of her fear and ambition; she was simply and purely Jude, and Cardan was Cardan without the weight of his crown or the pain of his childhood, none of his carefully practiced cruelty in sight. Jude supposes this may have been the best night of her life, because for once she was _free._

 

She is pulled from her thoughts when she realizes she is staring at Cardan, who is staring at the sparkling, draping canopy above them. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again and again. Jude waits. She thinks she would wait forever for him. Even when her bones are dust in the ground and he lives on, she would wait.

 

At last, he says, “I want you to stay. Here. With me.” It is the softest voice she has ever heard from him, rivaling the one he spoke to her with earlier.

 

And, despite what they have just shared, some familiar hostility returns to her.

 

 _“Now_ you require me here.”

 

His head turns toward her, now, eyes searching. “There is no more I have to say about my actions. It brought me nothing but a world of distraught and the deepest of sorrows, but I do not regret it.” Still, his tone is gentle. “You have taken over me completely, Jude Duarte, and I am happily overwhelmed.”

 

Jude inhales sharply. Cardan visibly swallows, and he looks as if he is fighting to keep his face neutral.

 

_I smile a lot when I’m nervous._

 

“I did not mean to trick you into marriage, Jude. That was entirely real for me.” He shifts onto his side and reaches a hand to grab her left one beside her in the mix of the embroidered coverlet and sheets, pulling it up to lie between them. He touches the ring she keeps on her finger. “I wanted to marry you, because—”

 

He cuts himself off. His tail slides along the sheets behind him restlessly. She knows what he is saying is true, because he cannot lie, but Jude is beside herself with shock. She cannot think or speak. She is afraid.

 

“Because I look at you, and I am soothed, even when we fight. You are the stars incarnate, my entire world laid before me, and I choose you now as I always will. I want you by my side, as my wife, as the Queen, for all of time.”

 

Jude lets out a shaky breath. Tears prick behind her eyes again. She has not cried so much since she was seven years old. She is tired of crying, so instead she says,

 

“Okay.”

 

The smile Cardan gives her is brighter than moonbeams, and he _laughs_. It is the sound of everything she yearns for, and she can’t help but smile back at him. She closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together, and kisses him hard enough that her jaw aches.

 

Jude does not let herself think of anything but them, right at this moment. She lets herself have this, savoring it as much as possible. Worrying can come tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. For now, they are undone, beautifully in sync, and nothing can take it away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give them an experience that is equal parts fantasy and reality. Truth is, sex is all over the place and can be very emotional!!! If it was too gushy for some, I apologize. I might write a kinky one-shot about them soon, who knows. Sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


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